The light that fell across his face illuminated the fact that he had combed his hair and shaved. It appeared that he had also taken his meds. The bottles were arranged next to his nightstand, the milk was gone, and he was sleeping soundly, unbothered by his own loud snoring. I closed the door, leaving it open just a crack in case he needed something.
Bo started the meeting the second I walked into the office. “They were marked.”
“Marked?” I sat in the wingback across from him. “Those guys at the house?”
“Yes.”
I thought about how he and Timon had checked the bodies with both curiosity and concern. “The tattoos?”
“Yes.” He sat with both feet on the floor, one arm resting on his thigh and the other on the armrest. It was an oddly stiff pose. I could feel the tension coming off him in waves.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we never should have taken them.” I had never seen Bo regret anything. Things were what they were, and he simply dealt with them and moved on. Not this time. He shook his head. “Never.”
“Why not?”
“They belong to a man named Drazen Tishchenko.” He looked at me as if I should know the name. As if everyone should know. I didn’t know the name, but he sounded Russian, and Russians had already come up in this investigation. Given the lack of sleep and the high stress level, it took me a minute to connect the dots. Betelco. Russian investors. Russian mafiya . “This Tishchenko is a Russian?”
“He is Ukrainian. From Kiev. People confuse them, but they are not the same.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Most people fear the Russians. The Russians fear the Ukrainians. The Ukrainians fear no one.”
Worse than a Russian. Excellent news. “Borders notwithstanding, would this guy be considered a member of the Russian mafiya ?”
“Not a member. A leader. Tishchenko is a vor .”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Vor v zakonye. It’s Russian. It means…” His large forehead showed the effort as he searched for the words in a language not his own. “I do not know how this is said in English, but it is a brotherhood.”
“Of criminals?”
“Yes.”
“Like the Italian mafia?”
“Worse.”
“Is he like a mafia don?”
“Much worse.”
“Worse how?” I wished he would just give me the bullet on these guys so I wouldn’t have to keep pulling it out of him.
“They come from worse. They come from murder and blood. From the gulags and the work camps. It makes them hard, the things that happen to them and the things that they do. It makes them strong. The strong kill the weak. That is where the power comes from. The last man standing is a vor , which makes him a very powerful man.”
“And we just pissed one off.”
“Yes.”
I had one of those how-did-I-ever-get- here flashes. I didn’t get them much anymore, and when I did, I was able to trample them down. I was here because I chose to be here. But I hadn’t signed up for Ukrainian mobsters. I got up and started to pace.
“Those men we killed, the ones who came in here and took Harvey, were they his men, this…what’s his name?”
“Tishchenko. I’m sure they were. Former KGB…Spetznas…Russian police…Soviet Army. He has all of them. It could have been any of them.”
“This guy isn’t here, is he? He’s not in Boston.”
“He is here now. He came to talk to Harvey Baltimore, which is why we found him unharmed. Tishchenko hadn’t spoken to him yet.”
“Why…” I was having a little trouble breathing. “Why would someone like that want to talk to Harvey?”
“I couldn’t find that out.”
“Okay.” I made myself sit down and tried to channel all the energy to the exercise of my brain instead of my feet. “Let’s think about what we know. Harvey’s ex-wife, Rachel, came here yesterday out of the blue and sent me on a wild goose chase, which got me out of the house and left her alone with Harvey. That’s when they took him.”
“Do you
Bo started the meeting the second I walked into the office. “They were marked.”
“Marked?” I sat in the wingback across from him. “Those guys at the house?”
“Yes.”
I thought about how he and Timon had checked the bodies with both curiosity and concern. “The tattoos?”
“Yes.” He sat with both feet on the floor, one arm resting on his thigh and the other on the armrest. It was an oddly stiff pose. I could feel the tension coming off him in waves.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we never should have taken them.” I had never seen Bo regret anything. Things were what they were, and he simply dealt with them and moved on. Not this time. He shook his head. “Never.”
“Why not?”
“They belong to a man named Drazen Tishchenko.” He looked at me as if I should know the name. As if everyone should know. I didn’t know the name, but he sounded Russian, and Russians had already come up in this investigation. Given the lack of sleep and the high stress level, it took me a minute to connect the dots. Betelco. Russian investors. Russian mafiya . “This Tishchenko is a Russian?”
“He is Ukrainian. From Kiev. People confuse them, but they are not the same.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Most people fear the Russians. The Russians fear the Ukrainians. The Ukrainians fear no one.”
Worse than a Russian. Excellent news. “Borders notwithstanding, would this guy be considered a member of the Russian mafiya ?”
“Not a member. A leader. Tishchenko is a vor .”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Vor v zakonye. It’s Russian. It means…” His large forehead showed the effort as he searched for the words in a language not his own. “I do not know how this is said in English, but it is a brotherhood.”
“Of criminals?”
“Yes.”
“Like the Italian mafia?”
“Worse.”
“Is he like a mafia don?”
“Much worse.”
“Worse how?” I wished he would just give me the bullet on these guys so I wouldn’t have to keep pulling it out of him.
“They come from worse. They come from murder and blood. From the gulags and the work camps. It makes them hard, the things that happen to them and the things that they do. It makes them strong. The strong kill the weak. That is where the power comes from. The last man standing is a vor , which makes him a very powerful man.”
“And we just pissed one off.”
“Yes.”
I had one of those how-did-I-ever-get- here flashes. I didn’t get them much anymore, and when I did, I was able to trample them down. I was here because I chose to be here. But I hadn’t signed up for Ukrainian mobsters. I got up and started to pace.
“Those men we killed, the ones who came in here and took Harvey, were they his men, this…what’s his name?”
“Tishchenko. I’m sure they were. Former KGB…Spetznas…Russian police…Soviet Army. He has all of them. It could have been any of them.”
“This guy isn’t here, is he? He’s not in Boston.”
“He is here now. He came to talk to Harvey Baltimore, which is why we found him unharmed. Tishchenko hadn’t spoken to him yet.”
“Why…” I was having a little trouble breathing. “Why would someone like that want to talk to Harvey?”
“I couldn’t find that out.”
“Okay.” I made myself sit down and tried to channel all the energy to the exercise of my brain instead of my feet. “Let’s think about what we know. Harvey’s ex-wife, Rachel, came here yesterday out of the blue and sent me on a wild goose chase, which got me out of the house and left her alone with Harvey. That’s when they took him.”
“Do you
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